Percentages
by DragoranHeartless
Summary: <html><head></head>Nobody loved him, so he sought refuge within his only friend. A heart-breaking oneshot about a Pokégear call you probably didn't give a second thought about.</html>


**_Warning: _**_Any veteran Pokémon fan will understand the joke in this story. If you are very new to the franchise, or you have no idea how the heck you even got to the Pokémon tab on FanFiction, or you don't even know where this computer screen appeared from, you probably won't get it. Enjoy._

**Disclaimer: **I don't think I own Pokémon. As far as I know, GameFreak does, so don't yell at me, I'm innocent.

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><p>I suddenly thought back to all I had been through. When I snapped back to reality, I found myself standing here, on the podium, prepared to make the final stand. Word had spread of it- many were calling it the <em>'final Pokémon battle<em>'. It was, indeed, a showdown of grand proportions. My eyes grew teary- I shouldn't be here.

I hated my life. I hated Pokémon too. _They _called it a game. It was no game- Pokémon were living creatures with feelings. At least, that's what I used to think. My father had altered my view on things. I involuntarily gasped when I thought back to the day it all started.

_All my complaints had only earned me a solid slap in the face. _

"_But, dad-" I continued worthlessly, holding my bruised cheek. _

"_Shut your mouth," commanded the expensively clad man. His voice was harsh and it pained me to listen to it. "You will never train your Pokémon the way I trained mine."_

_There was a long stillness. I said nothing, fearing to offend him once more. His long, black hair followed him as he turned around to leave. I narrowed my eyes distrustfully and looked at the Pokéballs in my hand- all he said was true. _

Fuck him- fuck the whole world. Nobody cared for me and nobody helped to get me here. I was the only one who gave a shit about my own life. Then again, there was Silver: the only human being I dared to label as a _friend_. Too bad he was dead, like all the other who had gotten in my way; the pitiable kid had apparently committed suicide due to stress. He was too weak.

His death brought no grief to me, as I was immune to such emotions, but it was a right shame. Him and I, we could have ruled together- or it could be him I was facing right now.

"_You're taking this too far,"_ _Silver yelled, fires licking at the edges of the cliff. "Let it go, it's over!"_

All it had taken was a little struggle. Besides, no one would ever know it was me: there was no evidence. He always remained in the back of my mind, though. He served as a constant reminder of my infinite power over people.

I was very much a charmer: a talker with a skill for his words. It never took long to convince someone- one way or another. Everybody knew that. I blinked, and then realized I was crying.

In fact, I was crying a lot. I sniffed, and felt the waterfalls of my feelings pouring down my face and striking the cold, hard floor. I refused to hold them back- the way my old man would have forced me too. I let each one fall down to the ground, fully knowing he was compelled to watch. I grinned manically.

"Pain," I announced with a heavy voice. The surrounding masses of the crowd went silent with a wave of the hand. "Suffering?"

I laughed. I felt like laughing. I was happy. Scrap that, I wasn't happy at all. I was enraged and furious and mad. I wanted to lay hands on him and choke him until the vocal cords didn't work in his throat anymore. So he couldn't say all those things he told me as a kid. So he couldn't swear at my mother and beat her with and stab and kill. I wanted to drench his hands in his own blood. Cold-blooded murder, in front of millions of fans: I wanted it.

I faced him.

"Torture?" I continued loudly. I wasn't laughing anymore. "Hurt?"

The crowd was silent with fear and anxiety. They knew I had limits but they knew I had broken them before. 'Would he do it again?' they were all thinking. I knew what they were thinking, and each and every one of them thought the same. 'Would he snap again?' Hell yeah, I would- and with no regrets.

My palms were coated in sticky crimson liquid, from when my nails had dug into my hands, another thing which had been caused by my fuming anger. Anger wasn't the word. I have never thought of myself as an angry or aggressive person- not until now.

But now, I didn't care anymore. I would kill and destroy him. My father would suffer for all the things he did to me. I looked at him, and we both saw _them _fade. The others, the bystanders. The entirety of the crowd faded away into the background. They didn't know what it was like for me to grow up, so why should I care about them?

I was finally here. I had been waiting for this. The _ultimate _revenge for all the pain this evil man had brought onto me. A vengeance for the death of my beloved mother: a carefree and innocent spirit. And lastly, but most importantly: a quench for my seemingly never-ending fury.

"Father," I yelled, smearing the blood all over my face until I was coated with it. "I am the very best. _No one_," I paused for a long time, and fell down to my knees. When I spoke once more, my tone was merely a whisper but it contained so much more, "Not _anyone_… can defeat me now."

I stood upright and spun slowly to look at the sum of all the rows upon rows of viewers.

"Do you not see?" I screamed with all my passion and emotion and fury and rage and anger and my _entire being_. "I have become a god, father."

The silence was eerie to the others- that was obvious- but to me, it was alluring.

"Do you not see?" They didn't see- no one could see. Only I could see. They were blinded by love and care and friendship. They were blinded by lies. "I have trained my Pokémon to counter any move, to block every attack, and to _destroy_ any opponent."

His glare was infuriating me- it was as though he wasn't even listening.

"Father!" I screamed with all despair my mind could handle. "Do you not see? _Do you not see?_"

I struck the metal panel in front of me with my fist. I felt the arena tremble with my sheer might.

"Does nobody see," So rung my last question. "That I have become…_undefeatable_."

"Joey," the fiend responded instantly. "I do not _see _anything. I merely _hear_."

This was it. The final battle. The fight to end all fights.

"So let our Pokémon speak for us."

I drew the same Pokéball I had been given approximately five years ago from today. It was time to show my father what I could do.

"I acknowledge this, son," my father continued. "That your Pokémon is in the top percentage of all Rattatas."

_Don't continue, _a little voice in the back of my mind exclaimed desperately, _he's going to snap._

"However, _my_ Rattata…is better than yours."

"GO! RATTATA!"

"You too, Rattata!"

"RATTATA," I screamed in my uncontrollable bloodlust, about to launch the full out annihilation. Unexpectedly, my rage calmed down. I then wiped the tears from my eyes and spoke to my Pokémon. "This is it…buddy…"

This was the revenge on the world. My name would go down into history. Children and adults alike would shiver at my mention of my name: Youngster Joey, the Rattata trainer. And, worst of all, I would never regret it.

"Farewell, everyone." I sighed, then looked up and glared my father deep in his eyes. Maybe, deep inside, I loved him. In a way, he shaped me and made me realize what I was truly capable off. "Rattata…use Self-Destruct, now!"

My father reached his hand out and yelled, "W-T-F, HACKS!", but it was too late.

_ And none were left alive_

_The End_


End file.
